


Drive

by seekingsquake



Series: Drunk on Love [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anxiety, Depression, Dr. Pepperony - Freeform, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3972790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekingsquake/pseuds/seekingsquake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Betty leaves, Tony needs to make sure his best friend is going to be okay. He doesn't plan on his girlfriend falling in love with Bruce, but. He's not upset about it, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drive

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel to The Background, completed for coreoftheabyss since she was mad about the angst.
> 
> All characters are property of Marvel. I don't own a thing.  
> Please do not repost or reupload this piece anywhere without consent. If you ask, I'm sure we can work something out :]

It’s the first time in months that Tony’s called and Bruce has picked up. He’s so startled by it, so unused to hearing the click and then the gruff, exhausted, “‘Ello?” that it takes him a moment before he realizes he should say something.

“Hey, Big Guy. I just wanted to. See how you were doing. ‘S been a while.”

Bruce doesn’t say anything, but his breath sounds stilted, laboured. A few long minutes pass before he murmurs, “I saw her yesterday.”

“Bruce...,” It’s been a year. Eighteen months since the accident and a year since she left him. Tony’s known Bruce for a long time, knows how hard certain things hit him, knows how much he loved her. But it’s been a year, and Bruce is still barely functioning.

“She had a date. Or something. She was with a guy, and she was drinking, and I think he was, too, and I. Tony. Tony.”

The last time Tony heard Bruce use that tone of voice was back when Bruce’s mom died. He’d tried to hurt himself, _had_ hurt himself, and every once in a while Tony still has dreams about popping over to Bruce’s apartment and finding him bleeding out on the bathroom floor. “Hey. Hey, Buddy, listen. Me and Pep are coming over, okay? Don’t... Don’t move. Don’t do anything. Just. Just sit tight and we’ll be right there, okay? Do you want me to stay on the phone with you? I’m gonna stay on the phone with you.” He holds the phone slightly away from his face and shouts down the hall toward the bedroom, “Pepper! Babe, get the keys! We’re going to Bruce’s.”

Pepper sticks her head out into the hall and looks at him with a raised eyebrow, but she does what he says when he flaps a hand at her and she sees the panicked concern on his face. They haven’t seen Bruce for eight months or something ridiculous like that. She slips a sweater on over her head, grabs the keys off the bedside table, and walks with Tony to the car. He’s shrugging into a worn leather coat and rambling into the phone, trying to comfort in the best way he knows how.

“We’re getting into the car right now, Buddy. Just hang in there, we’re only fifteen minutes out. We’ll be right there.”

He talks the whole way there, doesn’t stop rambling for even a minute. Pepper tunes most of it out and just drives. Bruce has always been a weak spot for Tony, probably holds more sway over him than even she does. She doesn’t know exactly how long they’ve known each other except that they met some time before college. They would have been boys, maybe even as young as children. In the four years that her and Tony have been dating she’s only seen Tony get this worked up over Bruce and over her. He panics over her for no reason all the time. She can only hope that this is also unwarranted, but.

Bruce had been a wreck the last time she saw him.

When they finally pull up to Bruce’s street and park in front of the little duplex he’s renting, Tony’s out of the car and up the steps to the front door before she’s even killed the engine. He waits for her there, and then hangs up his call before letting himself into the house. They’re hit by the smell almost instantly; it’s musty and stale, sweat and old air and dust. They walk from the foyer into the main room to find drinking glasses scattered around amongst dirty plates and various take out containers and pizza boxes, and the coffee table is piled high with empty cigarette boxes and makeshift ashtrays.

The room is freezing because the window’s wide open. It’s late October, too cold for that, really, but no one moves to close it. Bruce is curled up on the couch under a thin, patchy afghan that Pepper recalls as having belonged to Betty. His cell phone is clutched in his hand and she can hear the long drone of the dial tone. He’s shivering, and he looks thin and wispy.

It takes Tony only a moment to process everything, and after he’s finished he immediately moves to Bruce. He brushes the curls back off of Bruce’s forehead and murmurs something to him, and Pepper knows it’s best to give them a few moments alone. She wanders into the kitchen, but aside from a dozen unopened bottles of wine on the counter the room looks tidy. Dusty, like he doesn’t spend any time in here, but nothing like the living room. She peers into the fridge and takes stock of the fact that it’s mostly empty but what little that’s there is mouldy or expired. She opens the pantry to find it filled with more wine bottles, all of them untouched. “Tony,” she calls, “Come here for a minute.”

When Tony appears he looks so lost. She reaches for him and he steps into the circle of her arms gratefully. Neither speak for a moment, and then she says quietly, “He’s not eating enough, is he?” When Tony just shakes his head she continues, “Look at this,” and shows him the pantry.

Tony’s jaw is tight, but he manages to mumble, “He’s not cleaning up after himself, which is. Unlike him. I don’t think he’s sleeping. I don’t know how he’s paying his rent because I don’t think he’s been going to work. Pep...”

She sighs softly. “This is what depression does to people sometimes, if they don’t have support.”

“I don’t feel safe leaving him here.”

The statement hangs heavily between them for a long while before Pepper asks, “What do you want to do?”

Tony shrugs. “What... What can we do? How do we. We have to help him, somehow. I don’t... I don’t know if he’s safe.”

She looks around the kitchen, thinks about him trembling on the couch and chain smoking, and she says, “Get him in the car. I’ll pack him a bag. He can stay with us.”

Tony looks both stunned and relieved. “Really?”

“Well, we can’t leave him here like this and it’ll be tough for us to come by and check on him every day, won’t it? We’ll just bring that futon up from the garage and put it in the office, and you can work in the dining room or something.”

Tony takes a deep breath, nods, kisses her cheek, and disappears back into the living room. She can hear the murmur of his voice and the shifting of fabric, and then she goes down the hall and up the stairs to Bruce’s bedroom. It’s tidy, looks unlived in. The bed is made and everything’s in it’s place, but there’s a heavy film of dust on the side tables. She finds a duffel bag in the closet and pulls a few shirts off their hangers and folds them inside. Next she grabs a couple pairs of pants, some socks and briefs from the chest of drawers in the corner, and pretty much empties the contents of his bathroom vanity into the bag. When she gets back downstairs both the guys are gone, but she surveys the space anyway. She finds Bruce’s wallet, half a pack of cigarettes, and a bag of Skittles. She throws those into the bag, grabs his keys off the couch cushion, and locks up behind her as she leaves.

Bruce and Tony are standing on the street, and Tony is pleading with him. “Please, Buddy, come on. Get in the car.” She misses Bruce’s reply, but then she hears Tony say, “No, no one’s gonna make you drive, promise. Just get in the car and Pep’s gonna take us home, okay? We got you, Big Guy, okay?”

Pepper comes up behind them both, lets her hand brush over Bruce’s shoulder but retracts it quickly when he flinches. “Hi Bruce,” she says to him as she opens the door to the back seat and deposits the bag. “Do you want to sit shotgun?”

He just stares at her for a long moment, then transfers his gaze to Tony and worries at the inside of his cheek. Finally he murmurs, “What’s happening?” and his voice is rough and his eyes are so, so lost, and Pepper just wants to hug him.

Tony takes a deep breath before he says, “I don’t feel good leaving you on your own, so you’re coming home with us, okay? And you’re gonna stay as long as you need to, and we’re gonna help you through this, okay?”

Bruce glances back at the house before his eyes land on Tony again, and it’s like they’re communicating without words because Tony says, “She’s not going to come back,” as if it was part of a conversation they’d already been having, and Bruce nods like it’s something Tony’s said to him before even though Pepper knows that it’s not, and both men climb quietly into the backseat.

She stands there for a minute, just looking at them, before she rounds the car and gets behind the wheel. She glances over her shoulder in time to see Tony pull Bruce into a side armed hug that should be more awkward than it is, and once she’s checked to make sure Tony’s got both their seatbelts on she pulls away and off they go.

*

Tuesday and Wednesday pass quietly. Bruce doesn’t get out of bed, but Pepper lets it pass since he’s probably adjusting to the new scenery. On Thursday Tony manages to coax Bruce down to have dinner with them, and he dozes off on the couch while they watch Jeopardy. On Friday, though, Bruce freaks right out.

“No, no, you don’t understand,” he’s saying as Tony holds him tightly by the shoulders, “I have to. I have to go to the store. I have to- Tony I’m out of smokes and I have to pick up- Tony, I-,”

“Okay”, Tony replies, his eyes wild and confused. “Okay, okay, fine. We can drive down to the store and-,”

“Tony, I can’t drive! I can’t-,”

“I’ll drive you! I’ll drive you, and we’ll get you some smokes, okay? It’s fine.”

Bruce deflates, slumps down into Tony’s arms and struggles to breathe before squeezing his eyes shut and muttering, “We always walked.”

Pepper thinks back to the wine bottles piled up in the kitchen, thinks even farther back in time to a couple years ago, to Tony saying, “We don’t call on Friday nights, because that’s B and B’s date night.” He had winked and she had rolled her eyes at him referring to Bruce and Betty as B and B.

She looks at Bruce now, figures he’s been having date night by himself for a year, and just feels sad.

*

She doesn't remember Bruce ever smoking so much. When they used to hang out Bruce would have a cigarette or two and Betty would give him a side eye, but mostly they would drink. Or, Betty and Tony would drink and Bruce would do his best to keep up and Pepper would call a cab for her friends before tucking Tony into bed. But now Bruce just smokes and smokes. His skin looks more grey now, like he’s disappearing into it, like the colour’s been drained right out of him. She figures she shouldn’t say anything about it though, since he looked like he was going to vomit when Tony had a glass of wine with dinner the other night.

She finds him on the porch at three in the morning, leaning over the railing, a cigarette between his lips and his hands limp. “Can’t sleep?” she asks him.

He shrugs. “I used to jerk awake a lot because of that sudden falling sensation, you know? But now it feels like I’m slamming the brakes and...,” he doesn’t finish his sentence.

Pepper remembers the night Tony got that phone call, remembers only being told that Bruce and Betty had been in an accident and were in the hospital. She remembers getting there and Bruce sitting in a plastic chair in the waiting room, mumbling to himself over and over about how he should have just drove right through, not hit the breaks. She doesn’t know what to say, swallows heavily.

“Thanks,” he says suddenly, and he sounds tired.

“For what?”

“For letting me stay here. I was. I don’t know what I woulda done if I’d stayed in that house any longer.” He pauses, purses his lips then licks them slowly, grinds his cigarette into the ashtray by his elbow. “I know that it doesn’t, that it can’t, but everything still smelled like her body spray. Drove me fuckin’ nuts.”

She thinks about that for a moment, about what it would be like if Tony was gone but she could still smell motor oil all over everything. “It would.”

Eventually he offers her a cigarette and they stand on the porch together until the clouds start turning pink.

*

Bruce corners Tony in the kitchen after Pepper’s left for work and says, “What do you want to do about rent?”

Tony looks surprised. “What?”

“Rent money. For me to pay you. What do you want to do? On the weekly basis?”

“Bruce... You don’t need to pay us anything.”

“But-,”

“No!” Tony cuts him off, and he almost sounds angry. “No, hey. Listen. You’re here because you need support. You’re here because we want to help you. I don’t want you to pay me anything for that. If Pepper finds out you asked me that she’s gonna be really butthurt about it, so don’t bring it up with her. All we want is for you to have a safe place to get better in, okay?”

Bruce sucks in a shuddering breath and looks hard up at the ceiling. A safe place. He feels heartsick. “What if I can’t... What if this is it for me? What if I feel like this forever?”

Tony doesn’t say anything for a long time, but he puts down his coffee mug and pulls Bruce into a too tight hug. Eventually he murmurs into Bruce’s hair, “Then I’ll take care of you forever. But you’re gonna get better. It’s gonna get better.”

*

Pepper takes him to the doctors, and they get him on some antidepressants. They work on starting Bruce on a strict meal schedule, and Tony follows it with him so that it becomes something they can do together. The sleeping issue is tougher to tackle since Bruce is resistant to the idea of any more medication and doesn’t want to see a counsellor or therapist, but after a few weeks of Pepper dragging him to the gym with her it gets a little better.

Bruce has been with them for nearly three months the first time Pepper hears him laugh.

They’re eating dinner in the living room and there’s a standup comic on the TV. Pepper’s reviewing some pages from work and Tony’s playing a game on his tablet in between shovelling food into his mouth, so they both miss the joke, but Bruce snorts. The huff of air draws both of their attentions to him, and the snort turns itself into this wheezing sort of chuckle. The comic is still rambling on, but neither are paying any mind to it. Bruce’s shoulders are shaking with his quiet amusement and Pepper’s almost concerned because he’s still chewing on a mouthful of food, but then he breaks. The comic punctuates his story with this keening sort of yodel and Bruce barks with laughter. And once he’s started, it doesn’t seem like he can stop. The floodgates have broken, apparently. He’s laughing so hard that Pepper takes his plate away from him and Tony carefully places a hand between his shoulderblades to keep him steady. He’s red in the face, sucking in gasps and howling with laughter, and there tears leaking from under his glasses.

It’s a strange sort of scenario, Bruce laughing so hard he’s incoherent while Pepper holds a packet of work documents, Bruce’s dinner, and her dinner balanced carefully on her lap and Tony wide eyed and slack jawed at the other end of the couch. It goes on for over five minutes, and then Bruce is slumping against Tony and sucking in shaking breaths.

His laugh had been almost hysterical, hadn’t been anything like the sardonic scoffing laughter that Pepper remembers from his time with Betty. It had been deep, almost rusty, and straight from his gut. It had been beautiful.

Tony looks up and over Bruce’s head at her, and he holds her gaze for a long moment. He looks like she imagines he might after seeing the sun for the first time in months; delighted, wonderous, at peace. She can’t wait to see what he’ll look like when Bruce is finally out of his rut.

*

“Hey Buddy, let’s go for a drive.”

Bruce looks like he wants to climb out the window and run away, but Tony steadies him with a firm, gentle hand on his shoulder and a reassuring squeeze.

“Tony, I’m really not comfortable in... I get nervous in cars...”

“I know,” Tony replies softly, squeezing a little more firmly. “I know, but you don’t have to drive or anything. I just want to go for a drive with you. All you gotta do is just sit beside me, okay? Do you trust me?”

That last question, _do you trust me?_ really throws Bruce off. He chews on the inside of his cheek, his hands twining together nervously, and he eyes Tony warily. “You know I do.”

Tony looks him right in the eye. “Then trust me.”

They sit in the driveway with the engine running for a long time, twenty minutes or so, and Bruce says, “Idling is bad for the environment.”

Tony doesn’t dignify that with a response, just sits behind the wheel until Bruce is better used to the feel of the engine running beneath them, until his shoulders have relaxed some and his hands don’t move beyond their average fidgeting. Then he pulls out and they spend twenty minutes driving leisurely around the neighbourhood. Bruce tenses up dramatically every time they go through an intersection, and when they pull up to a stop sign and a red truck drives by in front of them he squeezes his eyes shut and digs his fingernails viciously into the meat of his palms. Tony pulls them over, turns off the ignition, and lets his hands cover Bruce’s balled up fists.

Eventually Bruce slumps back against his seat, lets his hands relax enough to twine his fingers with Tony’s, and murmurs, “I want to go home now.”

Bruce doesn’t often accept physical comfort. He stiffens in hugs and shies away from pats on the back or lingering hands, and he never initiates contact. Tony stares down at where Bruce is clutching his right hand, and doesn’t disengage; drives with one hand on the wheel all the way home so that Bruce can anchor himself.

*

It’s nearly four in the morning when they’re woken up by the unmistakable sound of vomiting. Tony, already shaken in the wake of his own nightmare, is too trembly to get up. Pepper brushes sweaty hair off his forehead, kisses his temple, and murmurs, “I’ll be right back,” before getting up and pulling her silk robe around herself.

The bathroom light is off and Bruce is draped over the toilet bowl in the dark. His breath is coming in ragged pants and she knows he doesn’t want to be touched or looked at, so she sits down on the floor near him and doesn’t say anything, just looks up at the dark ceiling and waits.

After God knows how long he whispers, “I’m sorry,” and he teeters backwards on his heels and leans his back heavily against her side. She’s bewildered, but doesn’t think. She just wraps her arms around him until he stops shaking, until he’s breathing easily again, and then walks him back to his room.

He leaves a feather light kiss on her cheek before disappearing into the room, and she stands there for a long time after, her fingers lingering over where his lips had touched.

By the time she climbs back into bed, Tony’s mostly asleep again. He rolls over and wraps himself around her, his eyes closed all the while. She presses back against him, lets him hold her a little too tightly, and tries not to think about Bruce or the fact that she cherishes his trust in her maybe a little too much.

*

They’re sitting in the car together, waiting for Bruce to come out of the doctors office, when Tony turns to her and says, “You’re falling in love with him.” The statement is faintly accusing but mostly just surprised.

Pepper sits for a minute, mulling over what to say in response before she settles on, “And you’re not?” and that shuts Tony right up.

They both watch the clinic’s door through the windshield, but Pepper links her hand with his and brings it up to her lips, kissing across his knuckles. He sighs, stretches his leg out and against hers, and lights right up when he sees Bruce leave the building and cross the parking lot.

“Look,” Bruce says when he slides into the backseat, “Drugs!” He waves the prescription bag at them until Pepper takes it from him and puts it in her purse, and then as an afterthought he adds, “I also need to eat more leafy greens, apparently.”

Tony makes a face at him in the rearview mirror at the same time as Pepper says, “We’ll pick up some spinach on the way home,” and he smiles gently at the both of them before settling back against his seat and looking out the window. Tony keeps watching him, and Pepper carefully doesn’t, and everything is fine for now.

*

Pepper comes home from work to find Tony sprawled out on the couch and Bruce sitting on the floor by his head with a guitar in his lap. He’s strumming quietly and singing even quieter, and Tony’s got his fingers curled loosely into Bruce’s hair. She doesn’t make a sound, just stands there watching them, listening. Bruce is playing a Ryan Adams song, and his voice is crooning and raspy. When he looks up and sees her he grins and abruptly changes the song to Meet Virginia.

Tony snorts and murmurs, his voice slurred with sleep, “Pep’s not like that,” but Pepper blushes and smiles anyway. Bruce keeps playing, closing his eyes and rolling his head back into Tony’s touch as Pepper strips out of her jacket and drops her bag. She quickly changes into her home clothes and then curls up on the couch, pulling Tony’s feet into her lap. He curls his toes against the inside of her thighs, scratches at Bruce’s scalp, and sighs contentedly. She drifts off to the sound of Bruce’s voice and the twang of the guitar she didn’t know he had, and Tony’s soft snoring.    

*

It’s after dinner when Tony grabs him by the cuff of his shirt and gently drags him down to the garage. “I want to take you for a drive.”

Bruce turns to Pepper with anxious eyes but she only smiles at him and shakes her head. “You know it’s best to let him have his way, Bruce.”

He’s bundled into the front passenger seat, and then Tony’s beside him and pulling out onto the street. He drives slowly, taking quiet streets and staying away from populated areas. They pass through yellow spotlights casted by streetlamps, and the only sound between them is the hum of the engine and Bruce’s quiet breath. He’s nervous, but he doesn’t say anything. Tony keeps an eye on him but also doesn’t speak, just drives. Finally he pulls them over at a lookout, and he gets out of the car and coaxes Bruce with him. He takes Bruce right up to the railing of the cliff, and they stand there together for a long moment before he says, “I’m really proud of you, yeah?”

Bruce looks at him, serious and considering, his hands shoved into his pockets. Then he leans against Tony and makes a soft noise in the back of this throat.

“I’m serious. I know. I know how hard it’s all been for you, and how scared you are but. You just sat in the car for an hour, and you’re not drinking anymore, and you don’t break down on Fridays. I just. I don’t think you hear it enough. That you’re. You’re doing good, Bruce. And I’m proud of you. And I’m happy you’re here.”

When Tony looks over at his friend, Bruce is wiping tears from his face. He chokes, “Sometimes I still feel like I’m drowning,” and Tony grabs him suddenly, fiercely, holds him close and lets him cry while he tangles his fingers into Bruce’s hair. “Sometimes I still think about. Stupid things. Doing stupid things.”

“You’re safe,” Tony whispers, and his heart feels like it’s going to break right apart. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you. You know that, right? I’ve got you.”

It’s chilly, but that’s got nothing to do with Bruce’s trembling. “Everybody leaves eventually.”

Tony huffs what could almost pass as a laugh and pulls Bruce closer. “How many years have I been putting up with you? It’s too late for me to walk away now, isn’t it?”

Bruce just burrows his face into the side of Tony’s neck, mumbles, “I don’t know what I’d do if you...,”

“Well I’m not going anywhere, so don’t bother thinking about it. And by the way? You’re stuck with Pep forever now too. Just so you know. Pepper doesn’t let things go. Anything. She’s like a crocodile or something.”

They stand there for a while longer, clutching each other while Bruce just breathes and Tony looks out over the city. It’s nearly sunrise by the time they drive home.

*

Bruce doesn’t talk much about what happened. He doesn’t talk about Betty, or the accident, or his past. Pepper really doesn’t know very much about him beyond what she’s observed in her four years of loving Tony.

She knows that Bruce’s mother is dead and that his father isn’t in his life at all, though she doesn’t know why. She knows that he’s got a couple PhD’s, but she doesn’t know in what. She knows that he only smokes Belmonts, eats Skittles when he’s thinking, chews his cheek when he’s nervous, and plays the guitar. She knows he’s got a lovely singing voice but doesn’t like to show off, that all his clothes are old and worn but that he likes them like that, and that he only drinks coffee when his hands are shaking.

She knows that he doesn’t feel lovable.

Bruce doesn’t talk about himself. He doesn’t express his thoughts very often, and he struggles when it comes to emotions, both his own and other people’s. But his walls and filters all come crumbling down after waking from a nightmare and falling into a panic attack, his words all come tumbling from his lips like he couldn’t stop them even if he had the presence of mind to try, and in these moments Pepper wants to leave him because she knows that if he was okay, these are things he would never share with her.

But he’s not okay, so she won’t leave him.

He’s curled up on the living room couch. It’s just after midnight, and she had been ready to go to bed until Bruce had come out of his room with pale skin and haunted eyes. She had wrapped him in a blanket and now here they are, sitting together in the dim of the evening. He asks, “How long have you loved Tony?” and his voice sounds like it’s broken and he’s trying to speak with only the pieces.

She thinks about that for a long time because it’s complicated, everything having to do with Tony is complicated, before she finally answers, “I’ve loved parts of Tony from the moment I met him. We had already been dating for a fair bit before I realized that I actually loved all of him, his whole person.”

“But you do love him. All of him.”

She lets her arm rest heavy around Bruce’s shoulders, fiddles with the edge of the blanket that sits near his collar. “Yeah, I do. Sometimes I forget because he’s so, you know, _him_. But I do.”

“He loves you too, you know.” Bruce doesn’t often ask questions. He makes a lot of statements and waits for you to fight him on them. Pepper used to wonder about that, used to think about who it was who could have taught him that he needed to have the answers for everything, but when she brought it up with Tony she was firmly steered away from that train of thought.

“I know. I think he’s the first person outside of my parents to love me like that.” She pauses, isn’t sure if she should say what’s on her mind but decides to go for it anyway, and says, “He loves you like that, too.”

Bruce’s breathing stutters, and then he huffs softly. “I used to think Betty loved me, but now I’m not so sure.” Pepper isn’t so sure she’s following Bruce’s train of thought, but she listens carefully to him anyway. “Betty always wanted more. More work, more alcohol, more fun, more sex, more me. She wanted to conquer... everything. The whole world. And I gave her everything I could, as often as I could, and I hoped that. I hoped that I had enough to give her. I would have married her if she’d’ve had me, but.

“I think she thought I was complicated, I think she thought that I was mysterious. But I’m not. I mean, I know I’m not really an open book, but. I just don’t really see the point in dwelling on past pains. She thought that she could unravel me and there’d be more to me and that it’d be enough but.

“After the accident, and the hospital, after we got her home, I gave myself away. All I wanted was to make sure she was happy. My goal was to make sure that we were both happy and healthy and safe. I started... I stopped drinking, I started telling her my feelings and she. When she saw that I was trying to show her who I was, and when she started to see that who I was was actually really simple, really straight forward. There isn’t anything more to me and. It wasn’t enough for her. I wasn’t...”

“Bruce...,”

“I don’t know if I’m made of enough to love. I don’t know if I’ve got enough substance to be. Anything.”

That thought sits between them for a long while before Pepper leans her head against Bruce’s temple, lets her arm tighten around him and draw him closer to her. She takes a measured breath because she’s sad and angry and confused, and she says, “You’ve always been enough for Tony, just the way you are. He hasn’t ever wanted you to be anything other than exactly who you are, and he loves you, Bruce. You’re his best friend, and you know how he is about people, and there is _so much_ in you. You’re enough. For Tony, for me. You’re enough.”

He leans into her touch but he makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat. “But neither of you could ever be in love with me.”

She can’t decide if she wants to laugh or to cry. She does neither. Instead she gently turns his face towards her and presses her mouth to his with all the tenderness she can muster. She keeps the kiss soft and warm. She wants him to feel that she’s honest, that’ll she’ll protect him, because she knows he won’t believe her words. Is beginning to understand that he might not know how. When she ends it, tilts her face just so that their lips are no longer touching, she whispers, “You’re wrong.”

Bruce sobs. He sobs, clutches onto her, says something but all she can make out is Tony’s name, and she holds him. She presses her face into the unruly curls of his hair and just hangs on. He eventually calms down enough to whisper, “Why are you so nice to me?” and she closes her eyes and breathes. When Tony wakes up she’ll ask him why Bruce is so confused by tenderness, and she’ll get her damn answers.

But that’s not important right now. What’s important right now is-, “Because you deserve it. And I love you.”

*

She curls up closer to him, her hands tracing the patterns of the scars on his chest. His lips are pressed into her hair and he’s not asleep, but he’s pretty tired. “He needs to hear it from you, too, Tony.”

She feels him shift under her, feels his hands pull her hips closer to his body. “How did your conversation play out? ‘Tony loves you,’ kissing him, crying, ‘I love you’?”

“Pretty much. I don’t think he believed me, but he trusts you.”

Tony sighs, pulls her impossibly closer still, murmurs, “I’ve loved him for, like, ever.”

Pepper smiles into his skin and kisses the side of his neck. “I know.”

“How did I only realize it after he was here and totally a wreck?”

“I don’t know. But you should tell him.” She looks up at him, watches his eyelashes flutter over his cheekbones. He’s beautiful, and it always catches her by surprise.

“You know I’d never do this for anyone else, right?” he asks her, and she can hear the insecurity in his voice. “You know if it were anyone else there’d never even be a, a thing. You’re everything to me, Pep. But. I just. Bruce.”

“I love him too, Tony,” she says as she kisses down the column of his neck. “I know. He’s something else. It’s okay. I want this too. But you have to talk to him.”

“...What if he doesn’t want us?”

“Then we’ll help each other through that hurt. But we’ll be okay.”

“Pepper?” Sometimes he sounds so young. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Tony.”

*

It’s a normal morning. Pep has already gone for work and Bruce is at the breakfast bar, a cup of tea by his elbow, a bowl of cereal just off to his side, and a crossword in front of him. His glasses have slipped low down the bridge of his nose, his sleep pants are too loose, too long on him and they hid his feet where they rested on the lower bar of the stool he's perched on. He looks rumpled and warm and at home, like he’d always been in Tony’s kitchen, like he was born to sit right there.

They had been seventeen when they met, and Bruce had been all gangly limbs and awkward lip licking. He was always bruised up and stuttered when he spoke, and he was the first person Tony had ever seriously considered dating. But then they’d gone to university and Bruce’s mom had died, and Bruce had needed somebody he could turn to during the trial, and his dad’s sentencing. And then after all of that, after Bruce finished with his first doctorate Betty had come along and Tony had missed his chance.

It hadn’t really mattered, because even a blind man could see how much Bruce loved her. Tony was just happy that his friend was happy, no matter what it felt like that Bruce had never looked at him the way he was always looking at her. And then there was Pepper, and they weren’t kids anymore, and the girls got along well and Betty was killer fun to drink with.

It wasn’t too hard to pretend that he didn’t want Bruce. Not when he was dating a goddess and Betty was always trying to eat Bruce alive.

But where Pepper’s shine never wore off, Betty’s did. Even Tony could tell that she drank too much, and she could get pretty mean when she was drunk, or tired, or stressed. She was insatiable, greedy, and impatient. She dealt in black and white, and everything about her was conditional. Bruce let her walk all over him, never stood up for himself, and did it with a smile. When Tony would try to bring it up, Bruce would just shake his head. “She’s not perfect,” he’d say, “But neither am I. And I love her, Tony, just the way she is.” and Tony couldn’t fight how light his voice sounded.

As hard as it’s been on Bruce, Tony’s glad that Betty left. She had liked him well enough, but she hadn’t cherished him, hadn’t tried to help him grow. She used to get frustrated with his nightmares and his anxiety, used to ease his fear with alcohol because she couldn’t connect with him on any other level other than sexually. Bruce had used to say, “Sometimes I think she thinks she can fuck the sadness out of me. Sometimes I think it almost works, but. It’s like a band-aid, you know? It doesn’t. Really fix the issue, just makes you feel like it hurts less.”

But he’s in Tony’s kitchen now, eating Tony’s cereal and having heart to hearts with Tony’s girlfriend late at night. Tony could just stand there and watch him all day, probably the rest of his life, but he won’t.

“Mornin’ Big Guy.”

Bruce looks like he’d rather swallow his own tongue than talk to him. “Hey Tony.”

“So, I was thinking today we could-,”

“Tony, I need to. Um. Can I. Ah. We have to talk. Okay? And then I’ll just. Go, I guess.”

Tony freezes. What? “What?”

Bruce turns in his seat and takes off his glasses, fixes his gaze on Tony’s left eyebrow. “Can you. Sit. Please? I just. Um.”

Tony sits before Bruce can keep struggling for words. “What’s up, Buddy?”

Bruce takes a deep, measured breath and holds it for a long moment before exhaling slowly and saying, “Last night Pepper and I kissed and I’m not. You two are perfect for each other and she said some things, and I don’t want to. I don’t want to get in between you. I know how much she means to you, and I’m not gonna do that to you. You’re my best friend, Tony, the only person who’s ever been on my side and. I should have rebuffed her, but I didn’t, and if she were to put me in that situation again I don’t think I could deny her, and. I’m not gonna do that to you, so I’m just gonna. Move out. I’ve been here too long already, I should be able to take care of myself, I’ll-,”

And then suddenly they’re kissing. Tony can’t help himself; Bruce is too perfect to be real. He puts himself right up in Bruce’s space, gets off his stool and weasels himself between Bruce’s legs. He hooks one arm around Bruce’s neck and lets his free hand cup Bruce’s face.

Bruce hasn’t shaved in three days, and the gruff stubble is thrilling under Tony’s fingertips. The kiss is insistent, demanding, silencing, and Bruce is very obviously letting himself get swept away. And Tony, he can be greedy too because as long as Bruce doesn’t fight him, Tony will keep kissing him because he’s waited for so long. Years. Almost ten years.

Bruce finally pulls away with a shuddery breath, his eyes wide and confused, scared but still so trusting. “What the fuck’s happening?” The words are breathed across Tony’s lips, like Bruce can’t make his voice work.

Tony drags his fingers through Bruce’s curls and resists the urge to just kiss him instead of answering, to kiss him so thoroughly that Bruce forgets that he’d even asked a question in the first place. “What’s happening is that everyone’s falling in love with you. What’s happening is that I know what Pepper got up to last night, and it’s not fair that she got to you first when I’ve been carrying this torch for you for fucking years. She was telling you the truth last night. Bruce. Don’t be scared. Don’t go. Just. Just let us love you. Give us a try. We’ll- Bruce, I’ll take care of you. Let me take care of you.”

And then they’re kissing again, Bruce pushing back and pinning him against the breakfast bar. It’s desperate and hungry, and it makes Tony ache because he can almost taste how much Bruce wants to be loved. He can almost taste the loneliness.

He’s going to kiss away that taste, no matter what it takes.

*

“Hey,” Tony says as he bounds into the room, “Let’s go for a drive.”

Pepper cocks an eyebrow at him over the book she’s reading, and Bruce shifts so that he can see Tony from where he’s lying with his head in Pep’s lap. “What, now?”

“Yes now,” Tony laughs. “All three of us. Lets drive to the beach. C’mon, it’s not too hot out today, lets goooo.”

Bruce caves first because he always does, and he pulls himself into a sitting position. Tony darts over to the couch, plants a firm, adoring kiss to Bruce’s lips, and then pulls Pepper up. She grumbles, but Bruce smiles and Tony crows, “You’re outvoted, we’re going to the beach,” and she lets herself be dragged down to the garage.

Tony and Pepper pause by the car, silently trying to figure out who’s going to drive, when Bruce steps into their little bubble of space. He slips his arm around Pepper’s waist and grabs at Tony’s cuff with his other hand, then murmurs, “You’ve got me, yeah?”

“Of course,” Pepper says seriously, immediately worried, while Tony just says, “Babe,” as if it was a stupid thing of Bruce to ask.

Bruce holds them both a little tighter as he murmurs, “Then maybe it’s time I drive?”

Nobody moves for a long minute, and then Tony just grins and glues himself to Bruce as Pepper laughs and gives them both a kiss in turn.

**Author's Note:**

> See, I can do fluff, too!


End file.
